red letter bible

Sometime ago I was reading the “red letter” edition of the Bible and giving particular attention to the words of Jesus, trying to focus on what he might be saying to me.  Matthew Chapters 1 and 2, I passed with flying colors because there were no red letters – no words from Jesus’ mouth. In Matthew chapter 3, one red letter passage regarding being baptized in water.  I was feeling fine, since I had done that!

On to Chapter 4 I go.  Oh, my!

Verse 4: “Man does not live by bread alone but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Hurts me here badly.

Verse 5: “Don’t put the Lord your God to the test.” Honest evaluation about this, leaves me really questioning. When I trust him for something, am I submitting to his will, or am I claiming a promise out of content.

Verse 10: “Worship the Lord, your God, and serve him only.”  A lot of form I go through is not worship, it is following man (or church). I work to serve, but is my service really for the Lord or is it done because of man (or church) or maybe just me.

Verse 17: “Repent.” I’m ashamed to confess that my first thought was “What have I done that needs to be repented for?” By the time I finished that conversation, I had found plenty.

Verse 19: “Come, follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” I haven’t been following him to the sea or even to a mostly dried up creek bed.  In my defense here, I am trying to find a way to use this computer to maybe do a little good for the Lord, to inspire someone, or give testimony to the advantages one has who takes a life with the Lord seriously.

But if I really want to follow, maybe I should be getting dressed, getting in the car and going to the river or some other fishing hole.  Not many fish are landing in my lap right here at home.

With all this evaluation from just one chapter, I am on my knees at the cross, thankful for grace, thankful for the blood, hopeful only because of Him!


Googled Photo:

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“Won’t you sit down and rest a spell,” invited my mom.  My guilty conscience magnified the pleading in her voice.

“Mom, I would love to, but I’m so busy,”

“That’s the reason you should rest a spell,” she observed quite correctly.

I am trying to justify how it is that I can work a six-hour shopping trip into my schedule; then come by to see mom but still don’t have time to “sit a spell.”  I think of that time when I had a sick spell and she came to stay with me for three days; how she comforted me when I had a spell over that crazy boy in the fifth grade and he dumped me for my best friend, the long hours she drilled me in spelling hard words to prepare me for the spelling bee, how hard she worked to see that I dressed in a way to spell “chic” when I was in college.

***********    I called my husband and told him to grab a bite to eat at the drive-thru, because I wouldn’t be home in time to cook supper.  Than sat down to hold her hand and bask in the bewitching spell of her love.

“Okay, mom.  Let’s play “Remember When” and you tell me about all the roughs spells you have been through.”

She chuckled as she said, “Honey, I’ll start with your birth – that was a loo-loo, but you are worth every minute…..”


Challenge to use the word “spell” SoCS


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Lone Star 1

…READING AND ‘RITING, AND ‘RITHMETIC, TAUGHT TO THE TUNE OF A HICKORY STICK…The drawing above is one my mother drew, a one-room school house on the prairie.  Mom went to school there in the 1920’s; I went there 1945-46, I think.  It was Lone Star School.  My years in school were sort of out of order.  You see, I completed first and second grade in one year; I was taken out of school in the sixth (story for another time), then I completed seventh and eighth in one year.  Things were different back then.

Lone Star. Sixth-eighth-grade. Mrs. Jackson. Copying selections from the dictionary. (I did learn the sounds of long and short vowels that year! I had learned to read without being exposed to diacritical markings.) I didn’t know that what I was doing wasn’t really very meaningful until I became a teacher and wished for something to have the “brainy-er” students do to keep them out of my hair for a bit.  – Then I realized why I copied the dictionary. 😀

The desks in that school were designed for two students sitting side by side so the ink well was in the middle of the desk. I cheated one time, one time only that I remember. No, hold the applause, it was no great honor that I didn’t cheat, I just didn’t think I needed to. I thought I was smart enough without cheating.

I did become a Christian, about that time, and looked at cheating as sin, so I chose to study hard.

Back to how I cheated. I looked through the ink hole to see my open geography book on the shelf beneath. As far as I know Mrs. Jackson did not know I cheated.  If she did she should have made me copy the geography book instead of the dictionary!

When I graduated high school, Mrs. Jackson helped me write my valedictory address titled as most such speeches are, “Hitch your Wagon to a Star.” Not very original, but very short. I was very limited on my ability to compose any kind of composition—but long on my ability to copy pages from the dictionary! Mrs. Jackson probably came to see me on my big night; I remember little except that I was petrified to speak before my class of twenty-four graduates and all their families.

All that does not sound like a very great salute for Mrs. Jackson. So why do I think of her when I think of mentors, people who influenced my life. One lesson she taught me hit fertile soil. I think these were her exact words, “You can do anything you want to do, as long as you choose to do right.” Thanks, Mrs. Jackson, I received two lessons in that one statement. One, I must choose “right” in order to achieve my dreams, and two, I had the ability to do what I wanted to do.

And, Mrs. Jackson, if you happen to be tuned to my earthly existence, you won’t be surprised that I love grammar but I’d like you to look at my blog. I have learned to put words together in meaningful ways—composition.

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homeless beauty 1

Rue the beautiful

who lose their cherished treasure

to the curse of man.




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gloomy face

“Your voracious habit will lead to certain death.”  That was the pronouncement of the eminent physician whom I had gone to see regarding my troubling misbehavior.   The words clouded my mind as my world began to crumble.  The sound of the BlackBerry aroused me from the dismal ambedo.  I stood, switched my mood, and put the gloomy verdict to flight.  I’m not dead yet!   I care enough to turn the tide.  I’ll not be dazzled nor overwhelmed.  I’ll do it.  I’ll give up chocolate!

Words used:  voracious, eminent, misbehavior, cloud, crumble, blackberry, ambedo, switch, flight, care, tide, dazzle

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What could happen to rattle my winter

To mix my thoughts, my mind to splinter.

Not very much, I focus dead center.

Oh, I remember!   ‘Twas a foul printer.

It steadfastly refused to turn off!

Kept wanting me to add paper in trough.

I yelled “No more paper. Just lay off.”

It paid no mind, became a major stand off.

No honest techician could I find,

Phone intercepted by the 3rd party kind.

Called a young friend who came right over

Knowing her is better than a four-leaf clover.




picture: Pixabay

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neighbor 2

HOW TO MEET ONE’S NEIGHBOR (when it is far past the right time to do so). My “meet neighbor” posts are not for those of you who kindly helped your neighbor unload the U-Haul nor for those who, knowing their pots and pans were not unpacked, invited them over for spaghetti dinner. It’s for the rest of us – the shy, the lazy, the procrastinators, the give-me-another-chance people. I’m going to give you some ideas of how to save your face even if you are terribly late in extending a hand of friendship.

Number One:  I guess you could just go say, “I’m shy, I’m a procrastinator, I’m lazy, but I would really like to know you, if you would like to know a shy, lazy procrastinator!” That would probably make them take notice of you! (I bet this would be fun. If you try it, let me know. I don’t think I can do that one!)

Number Two: Share something (even if you have to buy too much). Try out one of these opening lines.
“ Hi, I just wondered if you could use this squash.”
“I have these beautiful plants that came up volunteer.”
“A guy came by selling oranges by the box.”
“These donuts were so much cheaper by the dozen! I bought extras to share.”
That requires no apology or explanation for being days, weeks, months, or years late.

Now none of those lines are very hard. So, what do you have (or can you get) to share?

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mary mother of JesusPart1    Part 2  Part 3
I have news. Do I whisper it in adoration? Or do I shout it in exultation? Here it is: Jesus lives! JESUS LIVES! He’s been set free. Jesus— free from the grip of the grave. Free even from the grasp of my arms! He was mine for a season, but he was on earth for a reason. The reason? The cross and the grave! Death and Resurrection.

As my son, he died, he succumbed to death; as God’s son, he rose to life.
As my son he came as a baby; as God’s son, he will return as King.
As my son he rode a common donkey; as God’s son, he will ride a white stallion.
As my son, he fed five thousand; as God’s son he is bread for all.
As my son, he drank water from a well; as God’s son, he is Living Water.
As my son, he was under the law; as God’s son, he was fulfillment of the law.
As my son, he celebrated the Passover; as God’s son, he became the Passover.

Jesus, my son, is no longer bound by a body, He has been set free, and as he is so can I be! Jesus, my Lord, and my God. I am highly favored and honored to be your servant. May it be to me as thou wilt.


Oneta’s note:  And I rejoice that “as he is, so we shall be” – Alive, alive, alive forevermore.

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mary mother of Jesus

Part1    Part 2


 Simeon’s words – “A piercing of the heart”—indeed, tonight my heart is not only pierced; it is ripped apart! I was at the foot of the cross! I watched him die! Die! This son of God, the miracle worker!

Skeptics mocked him by telling him to come down from the cross. Why did he not? He proved his power over death by his love for another grieving widow whose son died. Why did he leave me grieving? He did think of me. Asked John to take his place as my son. Even near the end, he encouraged a thief hanging next to him.

At last he said “It is finished.” Finished! The Messiah, dead. The Savior, dead. The healer, dead. The miracle worker, dead. The king, dead. My son, dead. However, death seemed welcome compared to the betraying, whipping, scorning, ridiculing, humiliating, bleeding, suffering!

They contemptuously jabbed a mocking crown of thorns on the brow that I had stroked in love. The brow that wrinkled when he laughed. The brow that sweat at the end of a long hard day. The brow that oozed blood into his eyes as it made its way down his cheeks.

Why did the glorious shouts of hallelujah, change to threatening screams of crucify him? Why, God, why? Why did you leave him to suffer alone? Why would your promise turn to this? What an ignominious end to your glorious promise!

His tired eyes looked in love as he asked John to care for me.    He cared.  He loved.  He made provision.  So I have bread to eat…as my heart still cries out, “Why?”


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mary mother of Jesus/Part 1

I waited for tomorrow – a tomorrow that lasted 18 years! Jesus was a favored lad, a brilliant and talented man. Still he would do nothing about his special-Godness. He just responded to my urging by saying, “It’s not my time.” Finally when I spurred him on that day at Cana, he followed through! Turned water into wine! It was nothing short of a miracle! Oh, how I rejoiced, what pride I felt. I remembered how the angel said I was highly favored, giving birth to God’s son.—- But I also remembered Simeon’s words. He said “a sword will pierce your own soul.”
Some days I glory in Jesus’ successes, his little group of followers has grown to be masses. Some days I cry in fear for his lack of fear. My heart reaches heights of pride when I hear how people love him, then it drops like stone when I hear how much his enemies hate him. I heard that he overthrew the tables in the temple and drove out the merchants! He even takes authority over devils—and death. If he has any fear, it is wiped out by his compassion. He is always doing good, loving the children, eating with sinners, healing the sick, feeding the hungry, even touching the lepers and making them clean! 
But I am lonely for him. He seldom comes home. I went to see him and he seemed to say that he has no more time for me than for other mothers! 
My son, the miracle worker! ’Tis no wonder they want to make him king. Who better to be a king? God’s son, and my son! Surely he will be safe, he is the promised Messiah.

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